*Giggles*
I sat on the ground, tracing the scars that covered my arms. Didn't care that Dad was watching, I mean, what's the harm in that? I reached the tattoo on my shoulder, which covered the scar batman gave me. Yeah, tu read this right. Batman. You'll find out why soon...
I walked across the beam silently. The Masked-Bat could have been anywhere. My swords drawn, my breathing was silent, and the room was pitch black. He had me trapped. Little did he know, I was on the same team. Robin lay lifeless on the ground, crimson liquid running down his división, split cheek, to the "R" stitched onto his suit. They hadn't landed one puñetazo, ponche on me. Then again, we weren't finished yet. I smirked as warm breath ran down my neck, Batarang to my throat.
"Sorry, Batsy." My foot slid his out from under him. Before he fell, he landed a clean swipe of a Batarang to my cheek. Ow.
"Who are you." He dicho gruffly.
"Can't tell." I said, just before Robin decided to come alive. The Boy-Wonder tackled me off the beam, allowing his mentor to steady. He had me stuck between a rock and a, Bird Boy.
"Gotcha."
"Not for long." I kicked up right where it hurt, hard. He let out a squeak, and fell to the ground. I smirked, launching myself at Batman. A Batarang wisped past my ear, then another embedded itself into my shoulder. Wincing, I growled, throwing my sword at the Bat. Opening my wings and blurring out the dimly moonlit window, I glanced at the bloodied mess my arm had become.
"Mel." Fang snapped in my ear. I quickly snapped out of my trance.
"HOLY MOTHER OF batman WHAT DO tu WANT." Fang stared at me wide-eyed.
"What...?"
"I was thinking."
"Oookay..."
I sat on the ground, tracing the scars that covered my arms. Didn't care that Dad was watching, I mean, what's the harm in that? I reached the tattoo on my shoulder, which covered the scar batman gave me. Yeah, tu read this right. Batman. You'll find out why soon...
I walked across the beam silently. The Masked-Bat could have been anywhere. My swords drawn, my breathing was silent, and the room was pitch black. He had me trapped. Little did he know, I was on the same team. Robin lay lifeless on the ground, crimson liquid running down his división, split cheek, to the "R" stitched onto his suit. They hadn't landed one puñetazo, ponche on me. Then again, we weren't finished yet. I smirked as warm breath ran down my neck, Batarang to my throat.
"Sorry, Batsy." My foot slid his out from under him. Before he fell, he landed a clean swipe of a Batarang to my cheek. Ow.
"Who are you." He dicho gruffly.
"Can't tell." I said, just before Robin decided to come alive. The Boy-Wonder tackled me off the beam, allowing his mentor to steady. He had me stuck between a rock and a, Bird Boy.
"Gotcha."
"Not for long." I kicked up right where it hurt, hard. He let out a squeak, and fell to the ground. I smirked, launching myself at Batman. A Batarang wisped past my ear, then another embedded itself into my shoulder. Wincing, I growled, throwing my sword at the Bat. Opening my wings and blurring out the dimly moonlit window, I glanced at the bloodied mess my arm had become.
"Mel." Fang snapped in my ear. I quickly snapped out of my trance.
"HOLY MOTHER OF batman WHAT DO tu WANT." Fang stared at me wide-eyed.
"What...?"
"I was thinking."
"Oookay..."
This charrie goes por the name Jenson King. Overly-gelled black hair to match his green eyes, this kid could be a Greaser, I swear. When he gets angry, o his body is put under a large amount of stress, he has the ability to retreat into the form of a black leopard. Even when in human form, his cat-like eyes and fangs give him night-vision, and an unusual taste for catnip. Jenson's past remains a secret, even to him. His earliest memory is waking up in the middle of the jungle at age twelve, only to be taken to civilization por tourists. He enjoyed old, classic streetfighting games, hence his Greaser appearance. At age sixteen, he traveled to America, and joined the team. Knowing más Hindi than English, he often just sits in the rafters and watches everyone.
This biography has many sketchy points, and most of my biographies will, until I'm used to escritura them, so, patience.
This biography has many sketchy points, and most of my biographies will, until I'm used to escritura them, so, patience.